May 7, 1789
Y/N wipes her hands on her dress. She finally finished hanging the clothes to dry.
She was finishing the chores early so she and Alexander could join her father as his inaugural ball.
"The children are fed, ma'am. They're playing out front."
She looks up to see Kitty. She was an enslaved woman, about Y/N's age that her parents had gifted to her to help her manage the household.
She nods quietly, "Colonel Hamilton and I will be attending President Washington's ball this evening."
"I'll lay out your dress, Mrs. Hamilton," she nods.
"Good," Y/N murmurs before heading inside.
She still had to clean up the house before she could even begin getting ready.
"I heard someone call Grandpappa 'King Washington,'" Y/N hears Jacky whisper to the two younger children.
She glances at them, listening as Fanny tells him that he isn't a king.
Y/N smiles as she argues her point. All three of the children seemed to have Alexander's wit and have taken after his need to prove his arguments.
She walks over to them, standing over her son and ruffling Fanny's hair, "Very well done, Fan."
"Is it true, Auntie?" Franklin asks.
"No. Not at all. We made sure of it in the Philadelphia Convention. We made sure of it when this new government was created. Your grandfather cannot become a king and will never be one," she assures them.
"Still," Jacky reaches for a cookie from the ones set in front of him, "it would be nice to be a prince."
Y/N hums, "You'd find that princes must work as well, Jack. After all, an heir to the throne must be well prepared in all aspects of government. That includes reading the books given to you for schooling."
Her 7-year-old makes a face, crunching up his tiny little nose and frowning slightly.
She chuckles and bends down to place a kiss on the tops of all their heads.
"Very well. Your Pappa - and uncle," she eyes Franklin, "and I will be attending your grandfather's ball in a few hours. You all will be taken care of by Kitty. She will put you to bed by 9."
"Can we not go with you, Mamma?" Jacky whines.
"I'm afraid not, my darling son," they hear, turning to the front door.
Alexander hangs his tricorn hat and black coat by the door, smiling at his young family.
"It will be far too dull for you three to attend. No other children will be there. Besides, your grandpappa is hosting the ball in celebration of his inauguration. That means that it's business," he explains, walking up to them and placing a kiss on his wife's cheek.
"Now, go on and play," Y/N tells them. "You three will be staying inside while we are out."
The three children scurry out the front door and Y/N calls out after them, "Not too far away! Jack keep an eye on the little ones!"
Alexander chuckles before turning back to Y/N and sweeping her off her feet. He holds her bridal style, kissing her happily.
Y/N giggles, pulling away and asking, "What's got you so happy?"
"What? Can I not be happy after a long year's work? Well, technically two, I suppose."
She leans in and pecks his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, "Fine. I'll admit. You did very well."
"As usual."
"Cheeky," she comments, throwing her head back in a laugh when he nuzzles her neck, kissing and nipping at it.
A/N: I need this type of relationship. Minus the adultery. Also... imagine being able to be carried by people. Lmao ya girl's heavy enough to cause someone major spinal damage or sum similar shit
"Again, as usual," he retorts. "And in answer to your question: it is a wonderful day indeed. I had a perfect day at work, not a single thing went wrong. This government is flourishing, and I'm proud to say I had no small part to do with that. And I got to come home to my heavenly wife and wonderful children."
Y/N leans forward again, kissing him happily.
Alexander still doesn't put her down, even as the kiss grows deeper.
Instead, he carefully makes his way to their bedroom, intent on making this magnificent day even better.
》》》》》》
Y/N flutters her fan, forcing herself not to grumble at the stupidity of the stupid secret language of the handheld accessory that she never bothered to learn.
Strangely enough, her father seemed to know quite a bit about it.
She had been standing on the side of the dance floor for a while, praying that the merciful God above would realize just how badly her feet were hurting after a couple of hours of being at the ball.
No. No, God does not realize.
It's dance after dance, with only a few shared by people she knew. All these people knew her.
It hardly seemed fair.
Alexander had also been dancing, particularily with the Schuyler sisters, Angelica, Elizabeth, and Margarita. (Y/N had completely avoided Betsey Schuyler - van Rensselaer now - though she seemed to harbor no ill will to either of the Hamiltons.)
A/N: So I searched and searched and searched and found someone pretty suitable. Killian Killian (yes twice) van Rensselaer. He was about 6-7 years Betsey's junior but was by far a good match due to the family he came from. He also served in Congress and was a Federalist.
Y/N finally manages to sit down after a dance to rest her feet.
A few more dances pass, and she entertains herself with a glass of champagne.
The music slows to a familiar tempo and she looks up to see her father leading a woman onto the floor.
"May I?" she hears and turns to see her dashing husband, slightly bowed with a small smirk.
She takes his hand, and stands, ignoring the ache in her feet and legs.
So many dances.
Y/N lets Alexander lead her through the minuet, just as her father does with a woman that Y/N can't seem to recognize.
They dance around each other and Y/N asks, "Have you spoken to my father?"
"Yes. Though, he's not quite social tonight."
"To be expected. He dislikes the attention," she murmurs.
The dance ends, and her husband leads her to the punchbowl.
He serves her a glass, holding it out.
"Trying to get me drunk, Colonel?"
He laughs softly when she says, "How absolutely shameless."
Y/N grabs the glass and Alexander shakes his head, "That still didn't stop you from taking the rum punch."
"It's perfectly good punch. I wouldn't dare waste it."
He laughs again, and Y/N takes the time to admire him.
They'd been married almost a decade. And Alexander was still handsome as ever, with his ginger hair and his vibrant violet-blue eyes.
"Have you heard that Knox was rejected as Secretary of War?" they overhear.
Y/N glances over her shoulder to where some elite women (van Cordlandts she believes) were chatting pretty quietly.
She turns back to her husband, "Is that true?"
Alexander looks across the room to where Washington was surrounded by young gentlemen - and Madison, who had recently been elected to Congress.
"Alexander?" she asks.
"Yes," he says almost immediately, looking into her eyes. "Congress approved him-"
"Then why was he refused the post?"
Alexander shakes his head, signaling for her to drop it. At least for now.
She realizes the reason why when she feels a hand on her shoulder.
Y/N turns around to see her father, who gives her a tiny smile.
"Enjoying yourself, President Washington?" she teases.
He gives her a look and extends a hand, "Might I have this dance, Mrs. Hamilton?"
She returns the same dirty look before taking his hand and letting him lead her away.
"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asks.
"Quite. And Wash? Is he behaving himself?" she quickly changes the subject.
"Very. Thank you again for allowing him to stay the night," he says, leading her through the fast-paced dance.
"Of course. Though, Jacky and Washy are troublemakers together."
He chuckles, "As if they aren't when they're separate."
She laughs softly, shaking her head.
"Are you alright...?" she asks quietly.
"Quite," he answers swiftly.
"I know you didn't wish to do this, Pappa. But-"
"My country was calling me to serve, Y/N. I couldn't refuse. Not when the people need me."
Y/N looks up into his gray-blue eyes, "You are so very honorable, Sir."
"I'm doing what any man..." he trails off.
"-any person," he corrects, "would have done."
"No, Sir. Many others would have refused it. Others would have become king. You accepted it as is. For your people. For our liberty," she tells him as he leads her away from the floor.
They sit down, and George shakes his head, "You remind me so very much of Lawrence."
"How so?"
"The way you speak, my child. Your mannerisms. Your attitude and beliefs. You remind me very much of my dear brother."
Y/N smiles. That was the biggest compliment he could offer.
"I do mean it, Pappa. There is no other man that could have done what you did. What you are doing."
The corners of George's lips curl upwards slightly.
》》》》》》
"So it's true then?" Y/N asks that night before bed.
"What?" Alexander looks up from where he had been scribbling at his desk.
"Knox was refused the post of Secretary of War."
He turns around in his chair to meet her gaze, "Yes. I already told you-"
"Yes, but you did not tell me why. If Congress approved of him... why is he not Secretary of War? He is by far the best-"
"Washington," he says.
"Pardon?"
Alexander closes his eyes a moment before looking up into her E/C eyes, "Your father."
"He rejected Knox."
Y/N cocks her head slightly, mouth agape in confusion.
"Why would he do that...? He served with Knox, there is no one more deserving..."
Alexander stands, slowly making his way to the bed to hold his wife.
"There is more," he announces quietly, holding her with her back to his chest, his lips pressing a kiss against her shoulder.
"More?"
"... His Excellency wishes to appoint me Secretary of the Treasury," he tells her.
Y/N's eyes widen.
Treasury?
Had her father finally noticed Hamilton's skill in economics? She swore she remembered Robert Livingston wanting the job. Perhaps Robert Morris, who had been offered the job, she was sure, had sent her father to Alexander.
After all, her father didn't seem to know about Alexander's exceptional knowledge in finance, even after all this time.
"It will be a financial sacrifice. About $3,500 a year."
Oh no.
She can't help the sigh that escapes her lips.
Their finances were already stretched to the point of breaking, with them having three young children and her husband often receiving pay in anything but paper.
He also hadn't taken his military pension, instead opting for dismissing it entirely. (She had, but had immediately put it in a bank to save up. That way, if anything ever happened to Y/N or Alexander, the children would be able to attend school in the way George, who lost his father young, was unable.)
"This is the way for me to do the most good," he argues. "In the treasury. I can pull the country out of debt."
"Yeah? And when will you pull this family out of debt?" she mutters, regretting the words as they came out of her mouth.
He sits up, and she prepares herself for the flurry of arguments.
They hit like a wave, point after point, overwhelming her slightly.
She waits for him to make his last argument before she rests a hand on his arm, "I didn't mean to offend-"
"Yes, Y/N, you did," he frowns.
She really hadn't meant to upset him. It came out before she could stop herself.
Of course, she meant it, but some things were best left unsaid.
This was one of them.
He stands up, "Don't you think I know we are in debt? God, woman, do you think me that naïve?"
"I never said-"
"Because if you believe that I am not acting in the best interest of the children, you are not the woman that agreed to wed me," he continues.
Y/N opens her mouth to speak, but Alexander holds a hand up to silence her - and she, unfortunately, obeys.
"I asked you if you could be content as a poor man's wife. Many times over-"
"Alexander...!" she finally interrupts, knees to her chest, embarassed at her being the target of his expert verbal attacks.
There's a long silence.
"I did not mean anything by it."
"Just admit that you did," he scoffs.
"Not what you believe," Y/N spits. "I never once regretted marrying you, Alexander. I never once brought up money before tonight. I never even thought twice about the amount of work I do every day - the work that my mother has done by servants at home."
"This is home," Alexander's nose scrunches up.
"Yeah? Maybe for you," she mutters.
He pinches the bridge of his nose, "This again?"
"What?" she glares slightly.
"We moved to New York for a better-"
"What? Profit? Because it sure as hell was not for this family," she seethes.
"How dare you?" he snaps.
"How dare you?" she throws her hands up. "I married you in the thick of it. At the end of the war. I gave you a son. I fought with you at Yorktown. Where I lost my only brother. I only wanted to be close to my small remaining family in Virginia."
"You never seemed to care about family before the war ended," his voice lowers dangerously. "Not Jack or Jacky, not your father, not your mother. And certainly not me."
"That's not true!"
"You weren't here!" he yells, tears in his eyes. "You were never here!"
Y/N stares, mouth agape and eyes wide.
"I raised Jacky alone. Practically alone for the first few years of his life. He didn't have a bloody mother, Y/N! You were far too busy playing soldier-!"
"I was not playing anything!" she growls, standing up.
They were on opposite sides of their bed, the children completely forgotten about.
"Yes, you were! The war was over after Yorktown! You were following the army around unnecessarily because you didn't want to come home!"
"I do not know if you were still mourning Jack. I do not know if you couldn't bear to see the son that carried his name. I do not know if it was simply becaude you enjoyed battle. Or if it was because you feared for your father," his voice drops to a soft murmur.
"But you still... were not here. So, yes, Y/N," his voice raises to a normal level, "Jacky and I moved here. And I refused to leave."
"That's precisely my point! I had no say-!"
"Just like I had no say in anything before this!" he snaps, throwing his arms out. "Not you returning to war after Jacky was born, not you staying after Yorktown, not anything!"
"I served my country, Alexander-"
"So did I!" his raises his voice even more, making Y/N flinch involuntarily, and rendering her entirely speechless.
"The only difference between you and I, Mrs. Hamilton, is that I never used that as a shield to hide behind," he growls.
"I am not-"
"Yes, you were. Listen here, wife," he glares, his voice emitting a tone of finality, "it is not your place to question-"
"Not this again, Alexander," she runs a hand down her face.
"It is your god-given duty to remain silent and learn from your husband, to give me children, and to love and respect me," he lists angrily.
"And seeing as how you've failed to do any of these, I shan't hesitate to reeducate you in the proper-"
"Oh, my God..." she whispers, tears stinging her eyes.
It doesn't faze him.
She had lost three children out of the four times she had been pregnant. One may have been Lafayette's, yes, but it was still hers. She had miscarried Alexander's little girl and had given birth to a stillborn baby boy.
And, despite claiming otherwise at the time... in the end he blamed her for it all.
And he threatened to discipline her for the traits he once found attractive in her.
He was right. She knew he was. Those were the duties given to her by God.
She had failed to give him more sons, she couldn't carry a healthy baby, and would most likely never have one again.
It was her duty to remain silent and in the background and allow her husband to teach her. Allow her husband to take lead.
He was right.
But, God, it hurt to hear it.
Alexander waits a moment and shakes hus head, turning on his heel and making his way to the door.
He undoes the latch, throwing it open, and looks over his shoulder, "And if you are not content here, madam, you are more than welcome to leave."
Y/N's eyes widen and he steps out, the door slamming closed behind him. She's still unable to string a sentence together, and instead settles for slowly sitting down on the bed, bringing her knees to her chest.
She lets out a soft sob, burying her face in her knees.
》》》》》》
Jacky wakes to the sound of yelling. He sits up, rubbing his eyes tiredly and glances across the room.
Fanny and Frankie were still asleep.
The sound of arguing nearby causes him to turn his head towards the door.
His throws his legs off the side and stands, careful not to make too much noise.
Jacky opens the door. The arguing was coming from his parents' room.
They must have gotten home from the ball recently.
He turns back to look at his sister and cousin, who were still fast asleep on the same bed.
Washy was sleeping on Nelly's bed for the night.
The 7-year-old closes the door quietly behind him, blinking tiredly and making his way down the hall.
He hears his father's voice and gently places a hand on the wooden door.
It was latched.
Jacky frowns, his nose scrunching up. He rests an ear against the doot in an attempt to listen in.
They were yelling - it wasn't hard to make out what about.
Mamma never liked New York the way Pappa did.
She tolerates it now because her father was here and her mother was coming, but after they left, she's going to want to return to Virginia again.
Jacky himself wouldn't mind moving to Virginia after his Grandpappa left. He'd be able to see Wash and Nelly every day. And he'd be able to play with the hounds and horses and learn to shoot with his grandfather.
But he didn't mind staying in New York, where his father and grandfather were changing the government.
Jacky covers his mouth when his father reminds his mother that she ha dcontinued serving even after Jacky was born.
Was that why they moved to New York?
He listens in for a moment more before he hears footsteps.
Jacky steps away from the door and hurries back to his room, quietly closing the door just as his parents' door closes.
He scrambles into bed just as the door opens.
His father peeks in, whispering, "Jack...?"
The boy opens his eyes and turns to look at him.
Alexander glances at the other sleeping children before looking down at his son, "Did I wake you...?"
He shakes his head, his ginger curls bouncing against his head, "No..."
"I wanted water," he lies.
Alexander hums, eyes flitting between Jacky and the children before whispering, "Would you mind... sleeping with me tonight, my boy...?"
"With Mamma...?" he asks quietly standing up and adjusting his sleeping gown.
"No. Just me. Your mother's asleep already."
"You couldn't sleep, Pappa?"
"No, my darling boy, no..." Alexander murmurs, resting a hand on top of Jacky's head.
He runs his fingers through Jacky's curls, playing with them gently as he leads him to the guest room.
The little boy crawls into bed with his father and curls up into his open arms.
Alexander pulls him to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to Jacky's temple before whispering, "Sweet dreams, my boy..."
》》》》》》
It had been a few days since their argument, and the atmosphere at home hadn't gotten much better.
Y/N still cared for the kids, cooking them meals and helping them dress and putting them to bed. She still managed the house with Kitty's help.
She refused to sit at the table with Alexander, however, or sleep in the same bed (which often ended with Alexander sleeping in the guest bedroom).
They never talked to each other and if they did, it was a brief argument.
She had gotten confirmation from her father that he wanted Alexander appointed Secretary of the Treasury.
It wasn't the job that had ticked her off. She was proud that he was offered the position above Livingston or Morris, who had served as Superintendent of Finance.
She knew they could probably handle the financial cuts. Hell, she had money in the bank from the war bonds and her soldier's pension.
It was everything that followed that pissed her off.
Y/N looks up from her lunch when she hears a knock on her door.
"Mamma!" Jacky calls, running into the dining room with Fanny trailing behind and Frankie poking out from behind the doorway. "There's someone at the door."
"It's your grandfather. He asked if he could bring Washy over for a playdate."
The children cheer and Y/N smiles slightly, "So go on and open the door, Jacky. Invite your grandfather to join me in here for tea or lunch."
The eldest nods eagerly and hurries to the front door.
Y/N hears her son happily greet his cousin and grandfather. She smiles to herself.
It takes only a few minutes before her father turns the corner, stopping in the doorway.
He bows his head, "Pardon me. God bless."
She places the spoon down, wiping her mouth with a cloth napkin, "Thank you. Would you care for some broth? Tea?"
"No, no, I'll eat once I return to my office."
"Nonsense, Pappa."
"I couldn't make you stand. You're eating," George murmurs as he sists.
"I insist," she stands. "Besides, I doubt you're eating well with all the pressure on your shoulders. And with Mamma being gone."
He chuckles softly, adjusting his coat as she serves him a bowl.
She places it in front of him and serves herself more broth before bringing the hot tea to the table.
Y/N serves them both and she sits down with the question, "When will Mamma be coming?"
"In a week or so. She's readying everything before she leaves, since I couldn't get our affairs in order."
Y/N waits for her father to say grace before she continues to eat and he digs in.
George praises it after a few spoonfuls and continues eating.
He most likely ate a very light breakfast today.
Y/N glances out the window, where she's able to see the children playing with a few of the neighboring children.
Her father puts his spoon down and wipes his mouth before looking up, "I must confess, daughter, I do have something to talk to you about."
She sighs softly, "What did Alexander tell you?"
"Alexander?" he raises an eyebrow. "Nothing."
She quickly scolds herself for jumping to conclusions.
"Is there something going on between you and Colonel Hamilton?"
"No. Yes," she quickly amends it with, "it's nothing."
"Do not put the children in the middle, Y/N," he warns.
"We aren't. I'm sorry, Pappa... what did you want to talk about...?" she changes the subject.
George decides to let it slide, "Has Colonel Hamilton informed you of my intentions?"
"To make him Secretary of the Treasury, yes."
"As well as Edmund Randolph as Attorney General," he adds, and she agrees. He was a very good choice for the job. "And Mr. Jefferson as Secretary of State."
Her eyes widen and she gasps softly, "Thomas Jefferson?"
"Yes. You've met him beforehand."
She frowns in confusion and he gestures with his hand in the same way she often saw him do when he spoke in front of a crowd, "Before the Revolution. Briefly, when you were attending King's College."
She racks her brain and after a few moments, vaguely remembers the brief meeting of the tall ginger.
"I remember. But is he not the Ambassador to France?" she asks.
"He will be returning," George nods, taking another spoonful into his mouth.
"And Knox? Will he be taking the post of Secretary of War? I heard that you r-"
"Refused him. Yes," he puts his spoon down again and intertwines his fingers. His elbows were propped up on the table and his fingers were resting against his mouth.
Y/N stares at her father, entirely confused.
They had both served with the portly Knox (for many years) and both knew how well he would succeed at the job.
"Congress believed he would be well-suited for the job and approved him almost immediately," he tells her.
"Then why reject him?"
George looks up at her, staring at her quietly for a few moments.
Then he lets his hands drop, elbows off the table as he straightens his back, "Because, Y/N..."
"I would like for you to serve in my Cabinet as my Secretary of War."
》》》》》》
Whoo! This chapter was chaotic. Don't shit on Alexander too much. That was the biblical BS that they believed to a T back then.
I added the scene with Jacky listening in because fights like that are always worse when there's a child hearing.
Also, Y/N's a slave owner don't @ me most Virginian's were-